


My Sun

by Aydaptic



Series: Journeys of Lordran [1]
Category: Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cut Oscar of Astora Questline Included, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lore-Rich, M/M, Solaire Links the Fire, The Dark Lord Ending, Theories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-02-19 00:07:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13111473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aydaptic/pseuds/Aydaptic
Summary: The journey of the Chosen Undead and his realization that he was being manipulated by the serpents."'Cause I have been where you are beforeAnd I have felt the pain of losing who you areAnd I have died so many times, but I am still alive..."- 'I Believe,' Christina PerriWith artwork (by me)





	1. Intertwined Fates

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** After Solaire's comment, "If I didn't know better, I'd think you had feelings for me," I couldn't shake the feeling of him and the Chosen Undead being lovers. Also, in the game's cut content, Oscar lives... so he lives here, too.
> 
> Blame "We Are The Souls" by The Pruld for making me find this amazing (and fitting) song!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I would hate to harm you after death... So, go now. And thank you.”_   
>  _\- Oscar of Astora_
> 
> ...in which our two leads meet.

_In the Age of Ancients, the world was unformed, shrouded by fog. A land of gray crags, archtrees and everlasting dragons. But then there was Fire. And with Fire came Disparity. Heat and Cold, Life and Death, and of course... Light and Dark._

_Then from the Dark, They came, and found the Souls of Lords within the Flame. Nito, the first of the dead, the Witch of Izalith and her Daughters of Chaos, Gwyn, the Lord of Sunlight, and his faithful knights, and the furtive pygmy, so easily forgotten._

_With the Strength of Lords, they challenged the dragons. Gwyn's mighty bolts peeled apart their stone scales. The witches weaved great firestorms. Nito unleashed a miasma of death and disease. And Seath the Scaleless betrayed his own, and the dragons were no more._

_Thus began the Age of Fire. But soon the flames will fade and only Dark will remain. Even now there are only embers, and man sees not light, but only endless nights. And amongst the living are seen, carries of the accursed Darksign. Yes, indeed. The Darksign brands the Undead. And in this land, the Undead are corralled and led to the north, where they are locked away, to await the end of the world..._

*

Cold. Dark. Decrepit.

The iron bars before him cascaded to the broken floors, preventing his escape, as looming shadows made him unsure if he wanted to know what was further down the empty hallway. Not that he could see much anyway. His only light source was the beam of light pouring through the just as decrepit roof that offered little heat through the coldest nights.

With an exhausted sigh, he dropped a heavy head to his knees.

It was impossible to know how long he had been imprisoned. The sun never set at the Undead Asylum, but he knew he had been there for days, if not years. Enough time had passed for him to come to terms with his now ghastly appearance; dead and dry skin, his once green eyes now empty black socket holes, his entire build shrunk enough for him to look like a walking corpse.

In hindsight, he was.

Damn this curse.

Damn it.

He knew he was unable to die because he’d attempted to end his own life in this very cell only to come back. Death was a welcome choice to the alternative. He would rather perish than spend eternity in this godforsaken place.

Fate was a cruel, fickle thing.

The fate of the Undead. It shaped both him and the other human inhabitants of this very prison, although they were Hollow, him appearing to be the only sane left. It wasn’t like he could strike up a conversation with his fellow inmates. Everyone around him had ages past become savages of the dark, incapable of speech, consumed by despair that knew of no other purpose than chaos and war.

The sound of heavy plates slithering against each other had his ears sharpen. Walking? He wasn’t alone.

Whatever it was appeared close now, but as he peered down the hallway, he saw nothing. His heart began to beat in rapid successions. Clenching his plated fists, he braced himself, expecting some kind of warden to reveal himself.

Before he could recollect his thoughts, a corpse fell through the roof.

He frowned. Ascending his eyes to the sky, their tightness mellowed, the silhouette of a man blocking most of the light as he glimpsed him through the stone.

It had to be an Undead -– and a sane one nonetheless -- that had managed to escape. He was covered in plate.

The figure nodded at him but said nothing before he disappeared.

Casivir directed his glare to the corpse to see a dim light from a worn waistcloth beckon him closer.

His brows drew together once more. He palmed his hand to the jagged floor, pushing his weary body up before approaching the dead visitor that now shared his all too confined cell.

Once he reached its corpse, he caught the sight of a rusty iron chain with a key attached.

Pushing up the gate, a shrieking sound invaded his eardrums as the old metal pushed against the hard ground. A waft of air added to the chill already traversing his spine. The exit had to be close. He maneuvered the dark, clueless but vigilant to his surroundings, only to encounter the warden itself. The Asylum Demon.

Casivir drew his blade as the demon roared his way, only to curse under his breath discovering it shattered to the size of a mere dagger.

There was little chance he could take him out like this. He needed an alternative. Casivir remembered how to fight, yes, but he wouldn’t make it worse for himself if there was no need.

He was Undead. He had all the time in the world. It wasn’t like the demon was going anywhere.

Not before long, he witnessed a boulder break down a wall of stone, only to find the very same knight that had helped him. He appeared severely injured. There was a hole in the roof above him, about the size of a man, so he must’ve fallen through.

“Oh, you... You’re no Hollow, eh? Thank goodness,” the man said, voice weary and soft-spoken. “My name is Oscar of Astora.”

Casivir genuflected. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I’m done for, I’m afraid. My insides are damaged. I’ll die soon, then lose my sanity. I can feel it coming,” he replied, helmet echoing his words. “I wish to ask something of you. You are a godsend, to come at this moment. You and I, we’re both Undead... Hear me out, will you?”

“It is the least I can do. What would you ask of me?”

“Regrettably, I have failed in my mission. But perhaps you can keep the torch lit,” he said cryptically. “There is an old saying in my family. ‘Thou who art Undead, art chosen. In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords. When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know.’

“Well, now you know... And I can die with hope in my heart,” he finished with what sounded like a tired smile. “Oh, one more thing... Here, take this.” Oscar reached for his belt, fumbling with a golden flask attached. “An Estus Flask, an Undead favourite. Think of it as a liquefied healing herb if you were ever to suffer more than necessary. Oh, and this.” He handed him a key. “Now I must bid farewell. I would hate to harm you after death... So, go now. And thank you.”

“Oscar... Join me. I could use your aid.”

Oscar chuckled mirthlessly. “I am afraid I can barely walk. Nor do I wish to burden you. I have made my peace.”

“I am fairly known within the walls of this prison by now. I will not need to reinvigorate. At least not yet,” he replied, eyes briefly turned to the beam of light piercing through the stone. “You, however, have been at the mercy of the Asylum Demon... am I correct?”

“Yes... yes, I suppose the roof gave it away,” he replied with his head tilted to the very same light, releasing a half-hearted chuckle.

“There is yet time.”

For a moment, Oscar simply looked at him. “Your faith is... inspiring. My mind however darkens. Are you certain?”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said with a soft smile, extending his hand holding the Estus.

After a moment of reconsideration, Oscar reached out to the flask. He hesitated. His fists clenched before reopening once more.

He wearily drowned the substance and Casivir assisted him to his feet. There was a soft groan at the pull, Oscar’s head sagging before his knees gave after, but he was offered a shoulder to regain his balance.

Walking was no option in his state, so Casivir took a firm grip on him and effortlessly flung his rather limp body onto his back.

Carrying him to the closest bonfire proved little trouble. Oscar would be safe there. He had already cleared the dungeon of Hollows, but once another flame was added to the ember, they would return. Nevertheless, Casivir was willing to fend them off again if need be. Now he had to get past the Asylum Demon. As his companion rested by the bonfire, he stepped up to the door and readied the broadsword he’d earlier retrieved.

The demon roared.

“...and so we meet again,” he muttered, sunlight reflecting on the handheld metal.

*

The journey to Lordran, the land of the Ancient Lords, was perilous. A crow brought both him and a reinvigorated Oscar to the bonfire casting light upon the shrine known as Firelink, tended by a firekeeper, maintaining the ember from extinguishing.

In Lordran, they parted ways, hoping to run into each other again.

There were two Bells of Awakening. One far up and one deep below. Casivir had already lost track of time to know how long he ventured.

“Ah, hello! You don’t look Hollow, far from it!”

There was a man standing on a balcony, gazing upon the sun, appearing to have been lost in thought until Casivir approached. Despite his troubles, Casivir had managed to regain his humanity -- if only momentarily -- his rather pale features now on full display; his eyes were a bright emerald green, dark hair Swept Back and a five o’clock shadow.

This was the first human being he had encountered in Lordran that didn’t show any signs of depression or insanity.

“I am Solaire of Astora, an adherent to the Lord of Sunlight,” the man added, eyes crinkled behind his helmet to reveal a smile. “Now that I am Undead, I have come to this great land, the birthplace of Lord Gwyn, to seek my very own sun!”

Well, he might not have depression, but he did appear somewhat insane.

That much was certain.

Casivir was brought back to reality once more when the man –- Solaire –- continued to speak.

“Do you find that strange? Well, you should! No need to hide your reaction. I get that look all the time! Hah hah hah!” he finished, although his inquiry made it clear he knew humor; after all, Casivir’s face was well-hidden below a helmet of his own.

“It is certainly an odd mission, yes, but I am all the more grateful to meet someone appearing to have his wits about him.”

“Oh, ah-hah! So, I didn’t scare you? I have a proposition, if you have a moment.”

“By all means.”

“The way I see it, our fates appear to be intertwined. In a land brimming with Hollows, could that really be mere chance? So, what do you say? Why not help one another on this lonely journey?”

Someone was actually willing to help him.

“Well... only a fool would turn away aid.”

“This pleases me greatly! Well then, take this,” he replied, grasping Casivir’s hand and closing his fist around a soapstone. “We are amidst strange beings, in a strange land. The flow of time itself is convoluted; with heroes centuries old phasing in and out. The very fabric wavers, and relations shift and obscure. There’s no telling how much longer your world and mine will remain in contact. But, use this, to summon one another as spirits, cross the gaps between the worlds, and engage in jolly co-operation!”

“That appears a bit too simple, does it not?”

“Of course, we are not the only ones engaged in this. But I am a warrior of the sun! Spot my summon signature easily by its brilliant aura. If you miss it, you must be blind!” he replied and laughed, releasing him.

Casivir bowed his head. “I’ll put it to good use. Good to meet you, Solaire. It is... refreshing... to see a different view to all this.”

“Why, one must not lose hope! Do so, and you become Hollow, and who would want that?”

“That is true, yes,” he replied, taking a few steps back as to leave. He had a mission he promised to embark upon. Helping Oscar fulfill his wish was the least he could do.

Casivir briefly stopped, the man before him having turned back to the sun. “Solaire?”

“Oh, hello there.”

“You’ll remain here?”

“I shall stay behind, to gaze at the sun. The sun is a wondrous body. Like a magnificent father! If only I could be so grossly incandescent!”

Casivir found himself smiling a little. “I see. Goodbye for now, Solaire. I hope we meet again.”

“I have no doubt. Or, perhaps somewhat. Time is convoluted, after all!” he replied and laughed again.

Each time Casivir came across Solaire’s glowing signature, he made sure to summon him, the two appearing to work exceptionally well together. Solaire with his Sunlight Straight Sword and Casivir with his Zweihander. They became an unstoppable force.

It was the beginning of a truly special bond between two Undead.


	2. Anor Londo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had feelings for me!”_   
>  _– Solaire of Astora_
> 
> ...in which Casivir and Solaire have a heart-to-heart.

“Heavens, why you little -! Oof! Ah-aha!”

Stepping across the threshold and slamming the door shut, Casivir cackled maniacally, attempting the use of his entire body as a barricade. The relentless pounding on the other side had an excruciating pain seep up his arm. The force itself nearly dislocated the limb from his shoulder. He dropped his Zweihander to the floor with a clank in hope to get a better grip.

“Oh, there you are. You’ve been quiet these days,” came an amused voice. “Smooth summoning out there?”

“Solaire -?”

His opponents once more pounded the door and nearly sent him flying backward. A gap revealed itself between the door and frame, but he quickly closed it again, cursing under his breath.

These knights of Gwyn would be the death of him.

Well, to be fair, they already had a few times by now.

“If I may... I would suggest parrying.”

“Parrying these men? I never thought that possible... they have penetrated my shield at least thrice by now.”

“Oh-o! Have you come this far without parrying? I am most impressed. How did you get past the archers?”

Casivir grimaced. “Pure luck and endurance. He fell. My greatest hindrance yet has been the scaffolding with the white-clad men wielding throwing knives... t’was was not one of my finer moments in this accursed land,” he replied, bracing through another impact. “Forgive me; I did not know you were here. I would not have led these... these _heathens_ here if it occurred to me.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. In fact, I find it thoroughly amusing,” Solaire said, voice dancing with humor. He reached out to the burning, rusted sword sticking out from a pile of rubble, the Silver Knights banished to their posts.

“You have my thanks.” Casivir stepped away from the door as he steadied his breath.

“My pleasure. It appears we are bestowed a moment of rest. Come, why don’t you join me?” he asked, patting the floor beside him as he sat cross-legged by the bonfire.

Accepting his offer, Casivir pulled his helmet off and threw it under his arm, beads of sweat having formed beneath the plate.

By the Lords, it was humid in there.

Reaching down for his sword, he threw it over his shoulder to relieve its weight, his faithful shield yet firmly strapped to his back. He pushed the dark locks that had fallen to his face aside.

“Ah -aha! Judging by your delicate features, I would assume Astora noble?” Solaire asked with a hint of pride.

He smiled sadly in return. “You are correct. Unfortunately, I remember little of my past,” he replied, easing the Zweihander off his shoulder and propping it to the nearby wall.

His shield joined shortly after followed by his helmet in close proximity leveled on a worn cupboard.

“Surely you must remember something.”

Casivir lightly scratched the five o’clock scruff on his jaw, deep in thought. “My last memory was waking up in the Undead Asylum with no concept of time. I only hope to find what I am seeking.”

“And, if you don’t mind my asking, what do you seek?” Solaire asked as he plopped down next to him.

“My purpose was revealed shortly after I escaped my cell. A Knight of Astora threw me the key. His name was Oscar.”

“Ah, Oscar! I am sure he told you of his mission to ring the Bell of Awakening. I know him well. A noble man with as much a noble cause. We went our separate ways once I sought my calling to become a Warrior of Sunlight. How is he?”

“Alive and well. He was close to giving up back at the Asylum, but we decided to aid each other throughout this journey.”

“Hearing this pleases me greatly! These are trying times, indeed, and I am blessed to hear that he is well despite the hint of doubt. I am glad to see you fare well, too,” he said, tone as soft-spoken as always. “Anytime you see my brilliantly shining signature, do not hesitate to call upon me. You’ve left me with quite an impression. I would relish a chance to assist you.”

Beneath the steel plate, warmth blossomed in Casivir’s chest at the generous offer.

He smiled softly. “We certainly make quite the team, do we not? Neither the Bell Gargoyles nor Gaping Dragon stood a chance against our joined blades. I have very much enjoyed your company as well.”

“Why, you’re going to make me blush! A journey such as the one you embark upon is perilous. I would hate to see you harmed.”

“No worries, my friend. The men and women I have encountered thus far have made it manageable. Oscar, Siegmeyer, Tarkus, Witch Beatrice... I owe many of them my life. You are among them,” he replied, daydreaming as he gazed into the distance. “It has been long since we last spoke, Solaire. How fare thee in thy own mission? I am always here if you wish help seeking your Sun.”

“I am afraid nothing is new, but I shall not lose hope!” he said, his eyes crinkled to reveal his ever-wearing smile. “And I shall take you up on your offer. Four eyes are always preferable to two! ...lest you speak of a spider breathing lava or a different form of atrocity!”

Solaire laughed, hearty and open, Casivir’s smile unable to resist growing slightly at the soothing sound.

“True. Although the story of Quelaag’s family is tragic, I am thankful I do not have to face her again. I would, of course, do it once more if you required my aid. However, you always seem to be a step ahead of me.”

“If it is to any comfort to your pride... time here is convoluted, so I may be centuries after,” Solaire teased.

“I suppose we will never know.”

“You really are fond of chatting with me, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone only described as suggestive as Casivir arched a brow his way. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had feelings for me! Oh, no, dear me. Pretend you didn’t hear that!”

He laughed again, immediately having retracted his statement.

Casivir was put off-guard.

Nevertheless, the small laugh that escaped his own mouth was unavoidable.

“Stranger things have happened in these lands, my friend,” he replied, eyes falling to the floor. “It is as you said the day we met... this is a lonely journey. I would be lying if I said I did not miss the touch of another. There have been instances where I have been tempted to give myself up. Lordran may seem unfair at trying times of recklessness. It all comes down to patience.”

His features mellowed as he felt a gentle brush against his chin, his head tipped up for green to meet piercing blue orbs.

“Why, don’t you dare let the thought cross you of leaving me to venture this journey with Oscar alone. He is a good man, indeed, but he could be quite the depressive man if the mood strikes him,” he replied, the tease apparent in his voice.

With a smile and a roll of his eyes, Casivir gently smacked his hand away and was rewarded with another laugh.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that there was some truth to Solaire’s observation.

Perhaps there was a certain affection present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** These first two chapters have been very Chosen Undead and Solaire based, but from here on out, I'll be including dialogues from different characters as well as more story. Let's just say the story picks up after the Lordvessel is retrieved, which I may say, is in the next chapter. The chapters will also be longer.


	3. Sunlight Covenant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I would hate to see you go Hollow.”_   
>  _– Casivir, Chosen Undead_
> 
> ...in which the Chosen Undead begins to have doubts about 'his fate.'

Casivir fell down to the stone staircase at the end of a hall, breath heaving, head tilted back to regain it. His greatsword stained with both old and fresh blood lay draped across his lap. He knew he needed it cleaned or its sufficiency would waver.

An immense relief had entered his bloodstream when a knight of Gwyn and the executioner had fallen before his feet. Smough and Ornstein. He had to keep an eye on them both at all times not to be caught off-guard, but he had allowed his protective instinct for Solaire get the best of him, even if Solaire himself in his phantom form couldn’t perish.

It made him look like a fool when Smough nearly used him as a golf ball while Solaire kept Ornstein occupied.

Tilting his head back down, he took note of how Solaire’s eyes almost looked sorrowful, as he gazed ahead above Casivir’s shoulder. Upon the statues behind him. Casivir didn’t need to turn to register the stonework ornaments of Gwyn, his daughter Gwynevere and an empty pedestal, possibly belonging to the firstborn son of Gwyn’s who was stripped of his status.

“What troubles you, my friend?”

Solaire chuckled lightly. “You have a good eye. This conversation will have to wait, however; I’m afraid I am already making my way back to the Undead Parish... but I wish to ask something of you,” he replied, a hint of smile crinkling his eyes as he faced him. “If you desire it, come find me by the Sunlight Altar past the Hellkite Dragon... and I hope our worlds will remain in contact.”

“Then our hopes are aligned. Stay safe until then, Solaire. As always.”

In a foggy haze, his phantom returned to his own world with a bow of his head.

Casivir sighed and closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of rest.

His current mission was far from finished. It had come to his attention that there was more to it than ringing both bells –- whereas Oscar rang the second one -- when he spoke to the serpent Frampt. Much to his chagrin, his purpose was to succeed Lord Gwyn and put an end to the curse that had plagued the land for centuries if not more, a purpose that he found difficult to digest.

He was merely a man. Gwyn was a Lord. How could he possibly take his place?

Not only that, but this was Oscar’s mission.

Not his.

Frampt had sent him to Anor Londo to retrieve something aptly named the Lordvessel, although he spoke nothing more of it, Casivir’s further questions ignored when he attempted to obtain a clearer message.

He could do nothing but move forward.

Casivir pushed his body up from the broken floor that had been a victim of Smough’s relentless hammer.

Meeting Gwynevere herself was unexpected, laying in her chambers, him kneeling before her as she bestowed him the Lordvessel. It made him none the wiser. The curious artifact was another mystery he felt rude to ask what purpose it had. Neither did he want to upset a princess.

He wished to speak with Oscar. Perhaps he had an answer. Frampt was also an option, but trusting a serpent didn’t lay well with him, and so he was cautious and took whatever he said with a grain of salt. Not only that, but a feeling of unease had gnawed upon his flesh as he stepped into the princess’ chamber itself. Something felt off. Wrong.

It was as if Gwynevere was never truly there.

*

Where the Crestfallen Warrior once sat, Casivir had taken up residence, his White Soapstone clutched between his thumb and index finger. Thoughts passing through his head were like faceless shadows. He gazed into the empty air as he twined the chain around the digits of his hand.

“Mmm... hmm... Oh-o! Why such a grim face, young lad?” came a familiar but jolly voice, capturing his attention.

He was startled from his deep thoughts. “Forgive me, Siegmeyer. I do not mean to bring unease or concern. There is too much darkness in this land and I refuse to add to it.”

“Ah, I see. By all means, indulge me. Do not keep me in the dark!” he said, a laugh following his pun.

His daughter Sieglinde must’ve fallen tired of his jests.

“That was not my intention, my friend,” Casivir replied, the brief smile having grazed his features turning somber. “There used to be more men and women here at Firelink; a priestess named Rhea traveled to the Catacombs with her three escorts –- Petrus, Nico and Vince -- seeking the Rite of Kindling. There was a vile man here as well, Lautrec, who murdered the firekeeper. Laurentius of the Great Swamp got ahead of himself in order to ascend his pyromancy and the Crestfallen Warrior changed location. Both lost their way, turned Hollow, and I was forced to end their suffering.”

Casivir straightened his back. “This shrine is becoming more and more desolate. I find myself pondering on whom is next.”

“Oh! Well, I see. Oh, my... a grim thought indeed! Well, I would not trouble myself with such matters. It certainly is an unfortunate turn of events, but we cannot lose hope because of it!”

“No worries. I’ve no wish to turn Hollow. I appreciate the concern nonetheless.”

“I am simply returning a favor. You did much for me up above. I am grateful,” Siegmeyer said, his thick brows furrowing behind his bloated helmet. “You know, I was thinking... The gates at the old fortress... Was that your doing?”

The smile returned to Casivir’s lips. “It was, indeed.”

“Yes! I knew it! It seemed like an unlikely coincidence,” he pondered, appearing lost in thought before he snapped back. “Well, am I fortunate! This knight of Catarina thanks you sincerely.”

Siegmeyer shoved something into his hands. “Please take this, as a token of my gratitude.”

“A miracle?” he asked, eyes wide.

“Oh, do not fret! It is easy to cast if your faith is decent! Even a fool could figure it out! Now... I’ll be heading down below shortly. There’s nothing worthwhile up above. Adventuring is my life; I’m prepared for the worst.”

Casivir bowed his head. “Well, then. I wish you luck, Siegmeyer. Safe travels,” he said, but a thought occurred to him. “Before you go... I opened a shortcut to Quelaag. I am confident you would’ve succeeded without hassle if you chose the long way, but I would not forgive myself if it was left unsaid... not after what happened to Laurentius. The place reeks of death. Three infected barbarians will block your path before you reach the ladder reaching down to the swamps. I would suggest poison resist.”

“Ah-aha! Solid advice, my friend. I shall keep an eye open. You have my thanks!” he replied, laughing as he went to restock some moss.

Smiling after him, Casivir shook his head.

Siegmeyer was one of a kind.

“You are quite the selfless man, are you not?”

He turned to see a familiar face. “Oscar? I am glad to see you well.”

“Sage Frampt has spoken to me of you. I am told you ran the Bells of Awakening and received the word of Frampt. That is a wonderful thing. We are all counting on you.”

Oscar’s shoulders sagged, words muttered to no one in particular. “I only wish that I had such a purpose.”

At the admission, Casivir’s face fell.

“I would never have made it this far on my own. You have a purpose. If not for you... I would never have made it out of the Undead Asylum.”

As if realizing his changed composure, Oscar coughed as if to cover over it, immediately straightening his back once more.

“Yes... yes, of course. Forgive me. I did not mean to... forgive me.”

“Oscar -”

He cleared his throat. “I am preparing to leave. I cannot just stay here. I must find my own purpose,” he replied, the agitation present in his usually soft voice. “I hope that we meet again somewhere. One day.”

Casivir offered his aid, but Oscar refused with what appeared to be a strained smile.

He knew they were slowly drifting apart.

*

“Oh, hello there. I’m glad to see you alive. Well, you have been busy! Allowing yourself to be summoned to help other Undead in their mission? A noble act, if I may say!”

When Solaire received no response, a pure sense of alarm draped his features. “Oh, no, dear me. Did I say something improper -?” he added, although a light went up for him. “Oh! Ah –aha, of course! Well, this is mildly uncomfortable. I realize now this is the first time you have seen my face. Amateurish on my part. Did I scare you?”

“No, certainly not. I just never imagined... My reaction was uncouth. Forgive me,” Casivir said.

Solaire’s golden hair was pulled back into a plain black band, a light five o’clock shadow covering his jaw, a prominent nose and thin lips fallen somewhat open in a smile as he looked at him with the same piercing blue eyes. If he were to guess, Solaire would only be a few years younger, looking aside from the tired, dark circles barely beginning to form underneath his eyes.

He was beautiful.

“Well, that certainly puts a dampener on my confidence. Why, I cannot say I mind,” Solaire teased at the received compliment, his beaming smile now on full display.

The warrior of sunlight extended his hand. “Join me.”

Grasping his extended wrist, Solaire helped him over the final step, and the two walked to the end of the balcony together. Casivir’s gaze turned to the sun that never set. The Hellkite Dragon had retreated to the Burg as he had refrained from going up against it. Turning back to his companion, he immediately met sapphire blue gazing into his emerald green.

Solaire had donned a wistful expression.

“You have done well, indeed you have. You’ve a strong arm, strong faith, and most importantly, a strong heart. I am in awe, really. Yes, yes...” he added far more soft-spoken than before.

The sincerity of his words –- accompanied by the expression on his face -- had Casivir’s brow furrow.

It almost sounded... fond.

...but only a fool would think there was more to it than mutual respect.

Just two lonely Undead finding refuge in friendship.

_Lonely._

There was that word again.

“What do you think?” Solaire asked, looking at him intently. “Why not join me, as a warrior of the Sun? Righteous knights, guardians of all that is good, in the name of the Lord of Sunlight!”

Casivir’s eyes went wide.

“Only if it would please you, of course,” Solaire quickly added. “Well?”

“A Warrior of Sunlight? This is what you wished to ask of me? I would be honored.”

“Oh! Magnificent! I knew you would fancy it! Then, join the Covenant! Here, stay still for a moment...”

He didn’t have time to respond before calloused hands wrapped gently around his, cupping them, gesture resembling a prayer. Not that he minded it. There was this gnawing feeling at his insides wondering if every joining was this intimate.

By the way his body reacted, he would assume it was a ‘no.’

Solaire released his hands. “And there we are. Now, just say a prayer at the Altar of Sunlight, right there. Then you shall know the brilliance of our Sun,” he said, taking a step back with the same glint in his eyes.

Eyes searching the broken statue of Gwyn’s firstborn, Casivir pushed his body towards it.

He felt Solaire’s warm eyes upon him as he did. Genuflecting before the statue’s feet, he placed a Sunlight Medal at the old stonework, head bowing down as he palmed his hand above the coin. Within seconds, he could feel something blooming up in his chest, a warmth that he was sure he had never before experienced. It was the power harness of the Sun itself. Everything appeared clearer as the fog lifted.

Pushing his body up from the floor, his gauntleted hand caught his attention as he felt a numb glow. He frowned. Stutters of lightning began to circle his every digit and nearly made him jump. It was captivating. His expression softened, enthralled by the way such rapid lines moved, an utmost respect for miracles themselves although he had never been able to cast them.

“Exhilarating, is it not? The power of the Sun! I am blessed to have found such a brave companion!” came Solaire’s voice, affection in his every word. “Now, I must ask, do you remember where you put your soapstone?”

“It is draped around my neck. Why do you ask?”

“Allow me?” he asked, reaching out.

With his permission, he lifted Casivir’s elite knight helmet from his head and placed it under his arm. The simple black band that his White Soapstone was attached to caught in the plate somewhat -- dragged up from underneath his plaid shirt -- but was shortly released and fell back to his plated chest. With practiced hands, Solaire clasped the small stone between his thumb and forefinger.

Only then did Casivir notice that it shone a bright yellow.

It had been a dull white before.

“Fascinating... I must admit, I know little of miracles. What is the significance of this?”

He caught Solaire’s beaming smile. “Yes, it truly is fascinating! The soapstone changes its color dependent on which Covenant you belong to! Most of the Covenants depicts a dull white. However, for the Sunlight Warriors, it is this magnificent gold yellow. The Path of the Dragon is a striking black. For the Darkwraiths, the color red mixed with the infamous Abyss. There is also the Darkmoon covenant, an appearance close to the Darkwraiths, but rather a dark blue than red. It is... a strange trinket, indeed.”

A curious silence followed.

“Solaire?”

He snapped attention. “Hmm! Ah, oh... hello there. Forgive me, I was just pondering... about my poor fortune.”

“Oh?”

Solaire released the soapstone and turned to gaze upon the sky.

“I did not find my own sun, not in Anor Londo, nor in Twilight Blighttown,” he muttered, appearing dispirited. “Where else might my sun be? Lost Izalith, or the Tomb of the Gravelord...?”

“Solaire... I am sorry,” he muttered, clasping his shoulder in comfort.

“But I cannot give up. I became Undead to pursue this!” he said, the glint –- although dulled -- back in his eyes. “But when I peer at the Sun up above, it occurs to me... What if I am seen as a laughing stock, as a blind fool without reason? Well, I suppose they wouldn’t be far off!”

His accompanying laugh appeared forced.

The admission was true, but he knew it wasn’t the whole story.

Pressing his back to the stone banister, Casivir folded his arms across his chest.

“That is not all there is to it, is there?”

Solaire simply gazed upon the sun and a light breeze graced Casivir’s skin as he did the same.

“Forgive my bluntness, but I have found myself growing rather fond of you,” Solaire said softly, words directed at him although he didn’t move. “Foolish, is it not? I do not even know your name. We have a grand mission before us and yet I cannot shake mundane thoughts like these.”

“It is only human,” he replied, realizing the weight of his words.

Solaire hummed. “Perhaps.”

“There was a time -- back at the Undead Asylum -- where I wanted nothing more but to end the endless torment of undeath. Then... Oscar came. He gave me renewed purpose. I am glad your humanity remains. If anything, such thoughts –- human thoughts -- will keep you moving even in the darkest times. Hold onto them.” The area around his eyes drew tight. “I would hate to see you go Hollow.”

Casivir sighed, closing his eyes. “Solaire, I –”

The flap of great wings followed by a menacing roar took him off-guard, his attention gazing towards the Hellkite bridge, the dragon having returned to its spot. A plated figure was seen at the other end.

He narrowed his eyes in an attempt to see better.

“Is that... Oscar?” Solaire chirped.

Casivir reached for the binoculars on his belt.

The corner of his mouth curved. “It sure is,” he replied, watching in amusement as their fellow knight put out the flames on his sleeve before beginning to ascend with his shield raised.

He handed it to Solaire, who looked through the scope as well. “By the Sun, this is painful to watch. Perhaps we should offer our aid.”

“Why, I would say he needed the practice.”

Chuckling under his breath, Solaire shook his head.

It wasn’t long before Oscar managed to ground the beast, fighting it at the bridge and unsurprisingly, had the creature perish. Casivir would like to think that his earlier feat of separating the dragon from its tail made the fight easier.

“Hmm. Oscar has always been a magnificent warrior, so I am not surprised,” Solaire said, returning the binoculars.

“I would not be here if not for him.”

Solaire beamed. “Well, then. I shall make sure to thank him!”

He turned his head, meeting his companion’s eye, sharing his open expression that spoke far more than words.

“In terms of our earlier conversation... it is not foolish,” Casivir said, bowing his head to peek up behind his lashes. “Or, well, perhaps it is... but that will make us both fools.”

Casivir slipped a hand up Solaire’s neck, bringing their foreheads together.

“I’ll have you know that the thought has occurred to me as well,” he added, eyes ahead. “You have been a beacon in these dark times.”

A lovely shade of pink colored Solaire’s cheeks.

“O -oh! Why, that... is certainly unexpected. Dear me. I know not what to say.”

“Say you refuse to give up in your mission, no matter what obstacles you face,” he replied, pulling away. “I myself need your help in seeing this whole ordeal through. Remember my blade will always be yours if you so desire it. You’ve only to ask.”

A comfortable silence passed between them.

“Then I truly am blessed,” Solaire muttered. “Do be careful.”

With a soft smile, Casivir took a couple steps back.

“Casivir,” he said.

“Pardon?”

He chuckled lightly. “My name. It is ‘Casivir’.”

He caught the smile directed his way before he descended the stairs.

Now he had another reason for not going Hollow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** More Oscar in the next chapter!


	4. Lost Izalith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“If she recognized you... was grateful to you... why would she attack?”_   
>  _\- Oscar of Astora_
> 
> ...in which Casivir has to put down a friend (Sif) and Solaire's depression of not being the Chosen Undead is presented.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Longest chapter ahead!
> 
> My only pet peeve about _Dark Souls_ is that you can't meet Kaathe AND save Sif in the DLC without killing her first on one playthrough. This is a problem because you need to place the Lordvessel to access the DLC. You can only meet Kaathe after defeating the Four Kings, and guess what; you need the ring Sif has to be able to even access the Four Kings. Anyway, I did both in this fic... so the Chosen Undead has both saved Sif and met Kaathe.
> 
>  **PS:** I haven't written a sex scene in forever, so... I hope it turned out all right. Also, I made a _"Dark Souls_ and _Bloodborne_ are in the same universe" joke, but that doesn't necessarily mean I support that theory. I'm certainly not against it, though.

A familiar figure was caught on an escalated ledge, scouting the forested perimeter.

“Oscar? I did not think to encounter you here.”

Oscar smiled. “Well, how long as it been? Glad to see you safe. But be careful,” he replied, letting his hand fall from his forehead. “You must be the same as I. In search of the grave of Ser Artorias.”

“I am. What have you discovered?” he asked, lining himself up next to him.

“This forest is the territory of a fierce band of thieves. They assault any and all who seek the graves. That is unless you join their covenant, that is,” he said, letting out an exhausted sigh. “Such a shame that their leader must be further inside these woods. I doubt we can reach him or her without having to wound these men on the way.”

“The Forest Hunters, yes.”

Oscar’s brows shot up. “Have you spoken to them?”

“No, but I have heard rumors. I believe their leader is named Avina,” he replied, pointing towards a fallen building in the distance. “My guess is that she resides somewhere around those decrepit stones. Cats likes heights.”

“Cats?!”

“Here we have encountered two-headed lizards, walking trees, goat men, spider women, living slimy blobs that shoot spikes... I even met a talking mushroom back in Oolacile... and a talking cat surprises you?”

Oscar blinked. “I suppose you have a point.”

“Getting there is doubtfully an easy feat, though. I believe I glimpsed a spectral. He or she must carry a ring of fog or miracle of some sort.”

“What if we were to join forces?” Oscar asked. “How about that? If we work together, though... we may escape the bandits. Does that appeal to you?”

“A wise decision. We are more likely to succeed together.”

“Very well. Let us keep our wits about us. One could always do with another pair of eyes.”

*

With a pitiful limp to her leg -- a final blow to Casivir’s heart -- Sif perished into dust.

Piercing his Zweihander into the desecrated, bloodied ground with spots of fur lying scattered, his body fell and hit the stonework. He made no attempt at mending the impact. He felt exhausted. His body was weary and limbs weak.

Smough and Ornstein might’ve tested his wits and endurance, but by the Lords, Sif tested his humanity.

Oscar stared at the now empty air.

“I know she attacked us firsthand, but... I cannot help but feel pity for the poor beast. No pleasure was had in taking her down. I wish there was some other way we could reach the Four Kings,” he said, voice sorrowful.

Oscar gripped the hilt of his Astora Straight Sword. “Things appear to have settled. I was right to partner with you. Thank you.”

Casivir nodded weakly, fist clutched around the ring that would allow them to find the Four Kings.

“The beast... Great Grey Wolf Sif... she appeared hesitant to harm you,” Oscar said, sitting down next to him. “Why is that?”

“We have met once before. At the Chasm of the Abyss. I... rescued her. She was but a pup. Sif aided me in taking down the Father of the Ab -” he began, only to halt and correct himself.

“We bonded. That is all that matters,” he added.

“I am sorry if this causes you pain, but... I do not understand. If she recognized you... was grateful to you... why would she attack?”

“Sif, the Great Grey Wolf, most loyal companion of Ser Artorias as she guards his grave...” Casivir quoted, voice weary. “Beasts feel -- perhaps more strongly than us humans -- and she was most faithful to her master. She watched in despair and helplessness as Artorias challenged Manus. Challenged the Abyss itself.”

 _...she felt the pain of losing whom he was,_ he wanted to add, but decided against it.

“True, but Ser Artorias was successful. He conquered the Abyss. I suspect Sif was pleased to see him return.”

It was the famous legend that Oscar referred to, although the truth was unknown to everyone except Casivir, seeing that the truth was different. Artorias was corrupted by the Abyss because he sacrificed himself to save Sif. Casvir had no wish to disrespect Artorias –- him courageous enough to face the Abyss alone which deserved recognition –- and so he kept the truth to himself.

The legend of the Abysswalker was Casivir’s... and so he knew he had to lie.

“She -” he began, as eyes shut tightly. “Sif guards the covenant that allows us to traverse the Abyss. She did not want me to take the same risk that Artorias took. She did not want to risk losing me.”

Feeling a hand on his plated shoulder, he gripped the hilt of his sword.

_Damn this accursed land._

He didn’t know how much further he could keep going.

“We don’t need to band together anymore,” Oscar said, voice mirroring his compassion. “I will have a short rest here. Reflect on... everything. Feel free to go on ahead. I understand if you wish to stay as well -- mourn the dead -- and you are most welcome to join me.”

Casivir took a deep breath, letting a hand fall to his lap. “No. I... cannot stay here. Forgive me.”

“I understand. Stay safe, my friend,” he replied, as Casivir rose to his feet.

“You as well, Oscar.”

Before leaving, a flick of light nearly blinded him. The sunbeams had touched what appeared to have been metal. Crouching down next to the grave, he clasped a simple ring between his fingers and studied the item. A hornet was carved into it.

It looked familiar.

Casivir narrowed his eyes and held it up. “Does this say anything to you?”

“I believe it belonged to one of Gwyn’s knights. Lord’s Blade Ciaran. She was his assassin.”

“I... believe I have met her.”

“That is impossible. She perished over 200 years ago.”

“Remember when I told you of Sif? That she recognized me?” he asked rhetorically, lowering the ring. “After saving a woman named Dusk of Oolacile, I was thrown back in time thanks to a pendant. While I was there... I saw a woman praying at his grave. I believe she wore this very ring.”

The expression before him mellowed. “Well, that... does seem likely. She was a close friend of Artorias. They were both Gwyn’s knights.”

“It is possible she died here... or, at least left her ring as an offering.”

“Could be. You should keep the ring. Perhaps you can ask.”

Casivir nodded. “I shall ask her. Thank you for indulging me, Oscar. I value your opinion highly. I hope we meet again.”

“As do I. I pray for your success.” 

Nevertheless, as the time passed, Oscar became more and more distant.

*

Gazing upon the vast darkness that was now Anor Londo, Casivir was unsure what to think, his mind fogged.

“If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I... dear me. It was all an illusion?”

“The Lords themselves abandoned Anor Londo a long time ago. Merely Gwyndolin remained to keep up status. His powerful moon magic fooled us all to believe that the Lords were still in power of all this.”

Solaire stepped up to him. “How did you know?”

“Call it a hunch. Anor Londo seemed so... disconnected... from everything; its rich architecture, the many creatures residing there...” he replied, narrowing his eyes. “Gwynevere herself seemed like nothing but a blur. I made a reckless decision, launched a throwing knife her way, and she simply perished. Dark Sun Gwyndolin cursed me for destroying the illusion. I had to kill him.”

“By the Sun, I had no idea you were so... severe,” he said, eyes wide. “Yet, your instincts were correct. I cannot blame you for acting upon them. I admire you for seeing what I did not.”

Solaire fell into a pause. “However, what does this mean?”

With a sigh, Casivir closed his eyes.

“I have been asking myself this question a long time, my friend. I am unsure. One thing is certain... and that is the Lords are no more powerful than us men these days. That is why they have aided the Undead to link the Fire. To return them to their former glory. The flame is the only thing keeping them in charge. Without it... men would take over.”

“What of the serpent Frampt? He is no Lord. I see no reason why he would assist them.”

“Well... he was a close confidant of Gwyn himself if he speaks the truth. Perhaps returning Gwyn to power would bestow him a greater title than Kingseeker. In any event, I do not trust him. Neither do I trust Kaathe.”

“Kaathe?”

“Forgive me, I spoke too soon. Kaathe is the serpent I encountered in the Abyss. He claimed I was being manipulated by Frampt.”

“...and what did he say?”

“That we should allow the Flame to burn out.”

Solaire’s eyes went wide. “Burn out? Why you must be mad! That would only bring the Dark upon us!”

“Think about it, Solaire,” he replied, turning to face him fully. “We men are creatures of the Dark. The Pygmy. Whom is to say that we would not thrive where we were once created?”

Solaire took a step back, his expression bewildered. “This is... this is madness! A world without Light? You must have been led astray!”

“Solaire, please, I only ask you to hear me out. I know this is difficult to digest,” he replied, watching his companion turn his back to him with clenched fists. “You have not seen what I have seen. I have been to the Chasm of the Abyss itself. I have seen humanity sprites. They are like us -- simply without a body -- and they do not suffer whatsoever where the Light never reaches.”

Solaire didn’t respond.

Casivir closed the added distance between them. “Allow me to show you. Please. I pray you understand where I’m coming from.”

Above his shoulder, blue eyes landed on Casivir’s protruding hand.

*

“Well, well... look who the cat dragged in,” came a raspy voice as they approached the bridge.

Casivir gestured with his hand. “Solaire, this is Marvelous Chester,” he said, watching as Solaire gave him a curt nod. “Like me, he was grabbed and cast back in time into Oolacile.”

“Manus have been defeated already. May I ask what the two of you are doing back here? Not that it’s my business.”

An amused chuckle followed.

“I could ask you that myself,” Casivir replied.

“Me? Why I’ve come to see this place as a quaint little home,” he replied sarcastically. “Yharnam gives me a headache.”

“Yharnam?”

Chester simply turned to Solaire. “Now, your friend here seems the complete opposite of our dear Artorias. You run with a mixed little crowd. Artorias... colorless. Him? Rather colorful, I would say, hmm? There’s an aura about him. He hardly fits in here.”

“You know the history of Oolacile. I am aware we have our differences... but perhaps you could assist us.”

Chester made an offended gasp. “After our little spat in the Township? Now you’re simply _mocking_ me!”

“You were the one to invade me.”

“Only in good fun, hmm?” he replied, smirking. “Now... help you? Hmm. I need a bit more to go on than that.”

Casivir folded his arms across his chest. “How Oolacile fell. You said, ‘fooled by a toothy serpent.’ Do you know the name?”

“Ah, now that’s a cute little story. Frankly, and quite amusingly, I do not know. It’s not like I was born here,” he replied, the grin on his face heard behind his mask “...or, perhaps I do know, but it’s not like I’d tell you.”

“I am not surprised,” he murmured, grasping Solaire’s wrist and dragging him along with him.

Chester’s laugh followed them all the way to the entrance of a lift.

Stepping up to the platform, the lift descended in what felt like an eternity, darkness surrounding them as they reached the Chasm of the Abyss. He glimpsed the three dark entities before them with a white, blurry aura, the same white presenting their eyes. Aside from that, there was complete darkness, and so Casivir lit up their path with the skull lantern on his belt. They could now see the ground beneath their feet.

Casivir peeked over his shoulder, making sure Solaire was behind him. This wasn’t a place you wanted to become lost in. At this point, he knew the Abyss by heart in terms of navigation, which was something he would never wish upon anyone. 

Reaching an alcove, he stepped up to the ledge, Solaire shortly following only to stop in an abrupt halt.

Hundreds of humanity sprites shone like prism stones in the darkness.

“They... do not appear hostile,” Solaire said, reaching out.

Casivir captured his wrist before he could touch one. “They are not, but do not get too close. Their aura burns once you are within reach. Be that as it may, but they do not intend to hurt us.

“...they simply seek contact,” he added, voice pitying.

A bark caught him off guard.

Casivir’s eyes went wide. “Sif?”

He turned only to nearly be knocked off his feet as the wolf launched at him. However, he kept standing, looking down with a fond smile as Sif stood on her hind legs with her paws at his chest. Her tail was wagging vigorously with her tongue sticking out. Solaire gently separated him from the lantern and Casivir affectionately cupped the wolf’s furry head.

A hint of longing churned his abdomen.

Poor thing had no idea what awaited them in the future.

“Did you say Sif?”

“I did.” He crouched down, Sif rolling onto her back for a belly rub. “I found her behind a magical barrier Artorias set up from his shield to keep her safe from the Abyss’ corruption. I did not want to leave her here, but this... this is the past.”

Solaire genuflected next to them and Sif immediately perked up. She rolled back onto her feet, and with caution, reached out her snout to sniff him. Her tongue fell out again as she nudged him affectionately in the chest.

“Looks like she’s taking a liking to you,” Casivir muttered, a fond smile on his lips.

Solaire chuckled and scratched her behind the ear. “It appears so.”

Leaving Sif proved more problematic that he’d hoped -- the pup meant a lot to him –- but perhaps he could visit again.

*

“Are you all right, my friend?” Solaire asked, placing himself beside him as he sat by the third Anor Londo bonfire.

Casivir was staring at Solaire’s Sunlight Talisman, knees to the height of his chest, elbows resting atop of them. The fabric was soft to his gauntlet-discarded hands. His expression was drained as he processed the question.

“I am having doubts about whom to trust. I know not what to do. After everything... I am yet unsure.”

“So am I. Quite honestly, I still cannot believe that the magnificence of this place was nothing but an illusion. I feel like a fool.”

“I had my doubts of that myself as well.”

“Why, yes, but you eventually acted on what you thought was right. I would never have thought of exposing Gwyndolin like you did.” A slow, teasing smile spread on Solaire’s lips. “Say... how do you know _I’m_ not an illusion?”

Casivir gave him an unimpressed, but fond, look.

Green eyes fell to his lips.

Reaching out, he trailed Solaire’s stubbled jaw with two fingers, revering in the feeling of soft skin against his own. It was the first time they had been in such contact without chainmail or plate in-between. There was a longing there. Casivir brushed a thumb against his cheek before finally capturing it, reining him in, calloused lips colliding softly.

He felt Solaire’s skin heat up at the contact, his body rigid, although not showing any forms of resistance. He had missed this. It had been too long without such human interaction.

Casivir tilted his head, foreheads colliding.

“Yet you are still here,” he said.

Letting his eyelids flutter open, he saw the familiar red that had returned to his cheeks.

Solaire blinked. “O -oh...”

Casivir took a moment to study his companion. Uncertain. Shy. Bashful. Yet there was nothing claiming him to be uncomfortable in any way. Leaning back in, he stopped, requesting permission. He shortly realized he needn’t have been concerned. Solaire closed the distance between them, mouths colliding once more, now with more force. Casivir drew a deep breath through his nose. Solaire’s mouth was gentle and practiced as it moved against his, savoring every moment, intent on prolonging it. There was a want behind the increase of pressure. A need.

His hand was in Solaire’s hair before he could register what he was doing.

Lips parted slightly before him, allowing entrance, tongue finding solace between them. A soft moan escaped Solaire’s mouth. Shivers prickled down the length of Casivir’s spine as he felt a hand trace his abdomen, down towards his belt, delicate fingers about to unclasp it.

Blue eyes shamefully falling to the floor followed the quick retraction of his hand.

“Forgive me, I’ve... no wish to intrude, nor be offensive,” Solaire said. “I am... ashamed. I fear control is slipping away from me.”

Shortly, he regained his blue-eyed gaze, his companion possibly having heard the slow unbuckling of his pauldron. A softness draped Solaire’s features. The gentle acceptance in Casivir’s expression appeared enough to soothe him, and if that wasn’t enough, the way Casivir clasped his scruffy chin and drew him back to his lips -– after discarding the plate -- seemed to be all the convincing he’d needed.

Casivir’s hand splayed between Solaire’s pecs, pushing him to the floor and mounting him, armor drawing tight as calloused fists clenched around the sapphire cloth of his elite set to deepen the kiss.

Each armor piece was shortly more or less scattered around them, chainmail and cloth alike, lying in a clumsy fashion.

It became apparent to him that Solaire was a gentle lover -- just as his personality -- the feeling of being cherished not going unnoticed as he knew he wasn’t simply a roll in the hay. Heated glances and unspoken words were unraveled in their joining. They had managed to find one of the Anor Londo beds before losing themselves to one another, starting out small, slowly but not too slowly escalating into something more desperate.

Solaire was driving him mad.

Casivir had him pinned down beneath him when the music of Solaire’s pleasured gasp reached his ears, whilst working his mouth down his chest, a hint of tongue and teeth amidst it all. A salty, thin layer of sweat enveloped them both. Solaire’s firm, hard body was the result of convoluted time spent swinging a blade and battling demons, skin yet soft as silk to reveal the extraordinary but very human man beneath.

Moving back up, Casivir brought his lips to his companion’s neck, and...

He felt Solaire’s cheeks flush red.

“Ha –hah! Dear me! If you continue like this, I am afraid the longevity of this will considerably decrease!” he exclaimed, anything but oblivious to the bulge pressing firmly against Casivir’s thigh.

“You request for me to take this a step further?”

“Why, on my behalf, by all means,” he replied, voice suggestive.

Leaning in, Casivir pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth, feeling the shiver emitting from Solaire as he trailed two fingers down the side of his firm waist. Their lips stuck together for a moment as Casivir pulled away. He escalated Solaire’s knee to his hip, allowing better access, preparing him before pressing in. Solaire’s head was thrown back in pleasure as a small “ah” escaped his parted lips while a hand clawed at his chest. The other grasped Casivir’s shoulder as he touched his forehead against Solaire’s, brows drawn together in concentration, careful not to hurt either of them.

Each thrust was met with enthusiasm and needy moans, urging him further, his desire to please his companion further increasing with each escaped syllable. He was unable to silence his own hoarse but quiet mutterings. After spending hours upon hours doing nothing but coating their blades in red, they were allowed a moment for themselves, two Undead reminiscing how it was to once be human.

Solaire greedily arched up his hips, delving him deeper, a shared gasp between them ushering into complete bliss. His blood was boiling. Casivir dug his nails into his companion’s thigh as he felt Solaire’s release upon his abdomen, increasing the pressure of his thrusts to guide him through it, another groan finding its way through parted lips. His own wait was shortly over. He pushed in one last time before his orgasm surfaced with a growl, untying the knot built up within him, utter gratitude filling his every vein as he allowed himself the desperately needed release.

Breathless and sweaty to a fault, he pulled out, managing to convey enough strength to touch Solaire’s forehead with his own as they lay there spent. Chests heaved to regain air in their otherwise comfortably silent surroundings. Sleep shortly claimed them both.

He had died so many times, but as he now knew, he was still alive.

*

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Casivir stepped out of the arena where he fought the Demon Firesage.

The lava was unbearable. He wanted little more but to strip down of his armor, wash away the crisp smells that probably reeked of him and never again set foot there. However, this was where the Bed of Chaos was located, his very last Lord soul before he took on Gwyn himself. He summoned Solaire for the battle against the Centipede Demon later on, but even then, he could see that his companion was acting strangely.

They had been separated for about an hour after that point. Solaire was searching Lost Izalith for his sun and they separated because of it. That was until Casivir spotted a hunched figure by a bonfire.

“...Why? ...Why? ...After all this searching, I still cannot find it...”

His heat-frustrated expression fell away. Nerves crumpled. The sight seemed unreal.

The noise from his armor must’ve given away his position, but even then, Solaire paid no mind to him.

Casivir genuflected before him but there was no response. Reaching out, he hesitated, but fingertips soon found their place beneath the rim of Solaire’s tepid plated helmet. He gently pulled it off over his head and put it aside.

Solaire’s chin nearly fell to his chest, his skin pale, eyes closed. There was only the shell of a man left. Slowly reaching for his cheek, he gingerly tilted up Solaire’s head, the eyes before him being feasted upon the ground. He looked completely broken. Defeated. Seeing such an enthusiastic man reduced to this brought him a numbing pain. Solaire had been a light in these dark times. An unstoppable juggernaut of enthusiasm carrying him forward in his treacherous and depressing journey. A strength he didn’t know he’d needed.

“Solaire, look at me.”

He was soon presented by the brilliant but now dulled color of Solaire’s sapphire eyes. The fire he’d before seen was extinguished. The dark circles under them had aged him about a decade.

Casivir’s heart ached.

“You will find it, my love. Do not lose hope,” he reassured, keeping his gaze pinned. “Stay true to your faith.”

“There is nothing... I have looked, oh, have I looked... my dear sun.”

“Solaire... if you’ll allow me, I shall assist you on your journey, just as you have assisted me so far in mine. There is yet hope.”

Solaire just stared at him for a moment, the hurt apparent in his eyes, but he spoke no more words. Casivir closed his eyes shut and rose. Opening them again, he extended his hand, in hope he’d come along with him. He refused to leave him like this. There was hesitancy in his sapphire blue eyes as they briefly gazed upon his outstretched limb.

Solaire opened his mouth, only to close it again, brows barely relaxing. He eventually accepted his offer. As they continued, Solaire trailed several feet behind, the silence annihilating. Casivir didn’t know what to do.

It didn’t take long before they reached a shortcut he’d earlier opened.

He no longer heard footsteps behind him.

A brief sense of alarm reached his senses, but when he turned, Solaire was still there. He had stopped walking. In his hands, he was clasping a dead sunlight maggot, staring dolefully at the light emitting from its stomach closely resembling the light of a bonfire.

Slowly, Casivir approached him.

“Was it all a lie? Have I done this all, for nothing? Oh, my dear sun... What now, what should I do?”

Casivir considered separating him from the creature, but when Solaire finally looked at him, there was a noticeable change in his demeanor as if realization was dawning.

The sunlight maggot shone brightly between them.

“Why, I... of course. How has this not occurred to me sooner?” Solaire asked -- what appeared to be -- himself. “My sun, my dear, dear sun... I’ve been looking in all the wrong places... it is not literal, it is... oh.”

Concern furrowed Casivir’s brows. “Solaire, what are -?”

“Oh, I am not Hollow, far from it! Mad? Well, perhaps you are right,” he replied, his warm laugh following his statement. Solaire startled him by shoving the maggot straight into his hands. “Come, my dear! Let us take down the Bed of Chaos at this day so we may end this!”

Staring after him in pure confusion as he walked ahead, Casivir blinked.

He came back to reality, and realizing he was still holding the sunlight maggot, he shortly let it fall to the floor. The spark was back in Solaire’s eyes. No, he wasn’t Hollow, he wasn’t mad; Solaire of Astora was returning to his jolly self.

However, Casivir didn’t know why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Headcanon: Solaire's uttering of "my Sun, my dear, dear sun," after the following "what now, what should I do?" is actually Solaire calling the Chosen Undead 'his Sun.' He literally asks the Chosen Undead –- his Sun –- what he should do.


	5. Klin of the First Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Why, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or, might I say, a phantom!”_   
>  _– Solaire of Astora_
> 
> ...in which Solaire and the Chosen Undead attempts to balance Light and Dark.

Casivir’s eyes ascended as the great door swung open, on impulse taking a step back, eyes turned towards the Klin of the First Flame. Gwyn resided further inside the ash-clad wasteland while both Frampt and Kaathe had made an appearance.

A descending staircase protruded from the floor. Ghostly specters of Gwyn’s knights -- possibly in a different world -- were marching. As expected, his path was riddled with ash, the smell of burnt wood and sand permeating his nostrils.

The First Flame was indeed burning out.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped across the threshold and gripped the hilt of his sword.

The air felt colder there, only the hint of embers grazing the coal, being the only source of warmth. His breath came out in a foggy haze. Through it, he saw two knights of Gwyn, armor charred to black, the flames from the Demon War having burned them. He had expected there to be more. Being Gwyn’s final vanguard -- his faithful warriors -- one would think there would be an army.

Casivir clutched the soapstone around his neck.

The only thing he had to lose wasn’t currently in this world. In one way, it gave him peace, but there was the hint of longing keeping him from saying it aloud. He wanted Solaire to be there with him. However, their worlds hadn’t been in contact since the Bed of Chaos fell, separating them in time. Perhaps they would never meet again. Knowing that, his heart ached, but he was no fool.

He had accepted such a fate a long time ago.

Ruins appeared before him, thin walkways having him remember the not so fond memories of the scaffolding in Anor Londo, but none of the knights he’d encountered seemed to wield long-ranged weapons.

Once it was crossed -- and the knight guarding it defeated -- an all too familiar, brilliantly shining signature caught his eye.

“Why, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or, might I say, a phantom!”

Startled he turned to the sound of a familiar laugh.

“I’d just might,” Casivir said. “Yet, I cannot see through you, terminating my suspicion. It appears our world have collided once again. Our fates truly do seem to be intertwined.”

This wasn’t a phantom. It was Solaire. In the flesh.

“I was afraid to hope, but yet I did foolishly, awaiting your arrival,” he replied, turning to where his signature had dissolved. “When someone approaches our signatures, we Undead feel it as if the breach between worlds are closer. I am certain you have felt it as well... Or perhaps simply the desire to see you again took ahold of my senses.”

“I have felt it as well... although your insinuation flatters me. I am glad you are here.”

“This mission... it burdens you still, does it not?”

He swallowed.

Casivir’s eyes fell to the floor, brows drawn together.

His chin captured, head gently tilted up, nothing but understanding was in the expression before him. He was brought back to their first encounter. Such a gesture, no matter how small, let him know that ‘lonely’ was no longer part of the equation.

“Do not fret, my dear!” Solaire said, ever the optimist. “There is yet another obstacle to face before the decision is to be made! Whether we let the Flame be relinked in Light, or welcome the Dark, Gwyn’s Hollowed soul should be released from his torment. Come now and let us face the Lord of Cinder, together, engaging once more in jolly cooperation!”

“Your words hold wisdom. Then I assume it is not improper to request your aid?”

“My blade is and will always be yours, Cas... although I must warn you; the Lord of Cinder is an aggressive sort.”

“You have seen him?” he asked, leaving the nickname unmentioned.

Solaire turned to the fog gate. “In my world, his suffering has ended. He charges with fury and guards the Fire with his every fiber. A worthy opponent, by all means!”

“Always a step ahead of me,” Casivir muttered, a fond smile on his lips. “I am surprised you haven’t made a choice as of yet.”

“I found it impolite not to await your approach,” he replied, the tease apparent in his voice. “After the time we have journeyed together, I only found it appropriate to make an appearance... to see you complete such a tremendous task. Your shield will protect against most of his attacks, so your defense is at the ready... but if I may ask, have you encountered a ring by any chance –- one with a carved hornet?”

“I do. However, I do not think it would help me by much.”

“Ah -aha! Your lack of parrying skills! Even after I bestowed you my suggestion? I am offended,” he teased again.

“To my defense, my blade has a staggering effect like none other.”

Solaire laughed and clapped his shoulder. “You speak the truth! It is too clunky for my tastes, but a fine weapon of choice nonetheless!”

“It has certainly saved my hide on more than one occasion,” he replied, feet moving towards their final destination.

Solaire fell into his steps, and after being rid of the knights guarding their path, they stood before the fog gate.

Casivir escalated his hand and splayed his fingers as the fog formed around the digits. Casting a final glance Solaire’s way, he nodded, both shortly stepping inside the smoky haze.

Lord Gwyn looked to be tending to the Fire in the distance.

Only an ember flickered in the bonfire, and if his sight didn’t betray him, there was a hint of sorrow in his eyes as he turned their way.

It quickly turned into blood rage.

He was Hollowed.

Heart in his throat, Casivir readied his shield, the only thing he was able to do before Gwyn was upon him. The flaming blade hit his defense and he was forced to put out a foot behind him to retain his balance. Before he was able to compose himself, Gwyn’s blade was upon him again.

A Sunlight Straight Sword struck in Casivir’s defense, catching Gwyn’s attention, a hand at the speed of light dodged by mere inches.

Open after his failed attack, back turned again Casivir, the Zweihander struck him from behind that in return staggered him. Casivir raised the Zwei again. Nevertheless, Gwyn sensed his attack, his attention regained. Casivir’s greatsword was quick enough to strike him before he could counter it. Again, the Lord of Cinder was forced back, straight into Solaire’s area of effect.

However, he wasn’t staggered for long, a moment of panic flushing up in Casivir’s chest as he saw his companion grabbed.

“Solaire!”

Powerless to his hold, Solaire managed to graze Gwyn’s cheek with his blade as he was lifted into the sky with ease, in return receiving a terrifying grunt before he was thrown thirty feet.

Metal struck a pillar.

If his ears didn’t betray him, it was as if he heard a crack, and he feared the worst.

The Lord of Cinder was shortly towering over Casivir. His view blocked, despair grew for the unknown, blood beginning to boil. He dragged the sword against the ashes and struck. Gwyn was unmoving, the middle of a sword-swing catching him off-guard, a small rift burning into and across the cloth above his pecs. He was forced back a step. A muffled groan escaped him, attempting to ignore the fresh wound of which the flames dissipated. The pain was manageable. Shield quickly raised again, he blocked the next attack, hold tightening around the Zwei.

Gwyn went for another grab, but he managed to dodge it, landing two hits.

He swore he saw movement behind him.

Distracted, Gwyn struck him again, another pained sound escaping his parted lips.

Each hit was of raw power and tiresome to block, knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long. He managed another swing with the Zwei but immediately regretted it. Once he raised his shield, his arm nearly dislocated again from another fierce blow, back shortly hitting the ground while the helmet flew off his head with a clunk.

He gritted his teeth and rose, ready to strike again, only for eyes to go wide when a Sunlight Spear enveloped his opponent.

With a growl, Gwyn turned, only to barge into a halt.

The next thing he remembered was seeing the tip of a sword through his gullet.

Arms thrown out, the Lord of Cinder’s larger body crumpled into dust, a blinding but brilliant light replacing him at the spot. The man behind the finishing blow was revealed. As he watched Solaire stand before him -- his hand-painted shield firmly in his left hand and sword hanging limply from the other -- Casivir made a beeline for his companion.

“Praise the Sun, you are mostly unharmed! Forgive me for delivering the final blow, but I feared the worst -” Solaire began as he sheathed his blade, only to be cut off by hands separating him from his helmet, and green eyes hastily looking him over.

Solaire laughed. “Oh, I am fine! It was simply my left bracer that splintered!” he said with a sheepish smile and blush to his cheeks. “Dear me. I fear I grew reckless after I witnessed your struggle! I forget we Undead cannot perish unless our purpose is fulfilled or we give up. Foolish of me, I am aware, but I know as well as any other Undead that we feel pain just like everyone else... I did not wish such a thing upon you.” 

“I am grateful... but you had me worried,” Casivir replied, cupping his cheek and touching his forehead to his own.

“I am a little disoriented with a few scrapes and burns, but alas, nothing that won’t heal!”

“Are you certain? That looked rather painful.”

“Certainly! My purpose here was to keep you safe, and here we are, so I suspect we can forgive a few embarrassing eccentricities,” he teased, receiving an exasperated but fond shake of Casivir’s head in return.

Nevertheless, the mood gradually faltered, Casivir dropping his hand and turning towards the dying embers.

A comfortable silence passed between them.

“What’s on your mind, dear?” Solaire asked, voice soft.

His jaw clenched. “My mind has come to a plethora of reasons to why this happened in the first place. The Undead Curse,” he said, slowly approaching the bonfire. He felt Solaire’s eyes upon him as he did. “We have seen what occurs when Dark goes out of control, becoming the Abyss, ushering the fall of Oolacile and perhaps many lands centuries before it.

“Yet we also know what happens if an Age of Fire is prolonged... Gwyn couldn’t accept the Dark, and so he unintentionally created the Undead Curse by attempting to break the rules.”

“...and what rules are those?” Solaire asked, lining himself up next to him.

“Balance.”

He watched Solaire’s expression mellow in his peripheral vision.

Casivir narrowed his eyes. “Heat and Cold. Life and Death... Light and Dark. Light cannot exist without Dark and Dark cannot exist without Light. It is a balance that Gwyn disturbed once he attempted for one to overrule the other.”

“Do you know what to do?”

More silence.

“I do,” he replied, turning to face him “...but I need your help.”

“Whatever you ask of me.”

“We need to allow the Flame to burn out and either convince or destroy the next Chosen Undead with the intent on prolonging this Age. Only then can it be true balance,” he replied, expression somber. “I know you have always wanted your very own Sun... but linking the Fire is not the way.”

A soft laugh escaped Solaire’s lips. “Why, my Sun is standing right in front of me.”

Casivir’s heart bloomed as his features mellowed, the back of Solaire’s knuckles brushing against his cheek. His blue eyes with such sincerity seemed like a cruel illusion.

“In Lost Izalith, it occurred to me. You became my new purpose as you ushered me to resume my journey,” Solaire continued.

Closing his eyes, Casivir pushed into his touch with his brows drawn tightly together.

“Your words make this none the easier.”

“If this truly is the last time our worlds are in contact... I would live every moment and leave nothing unspoken,” he muttered, expression somber. “I’d be unable to forgive myself if this was left unsaid.”

Solaire gently grasped his chin and drew him to his lips. It was chaste, sweet, knowing time would soon run out as the ember was close to dying.

Casivir took a step back. “To be safe, we should remain here and make sure no one lights the Fire -”

“So, it was you... I had a feeling...”

Casivir turned his gaze to the entrance, narrowing his eyes to make sure they weren’t simply betraying him.

His face twisted in recognition. “Oscar -?”

Oscar came walking towards them, separating the sword from his sheath, as he seemed to be staring unyieldingly at Casivir.

Abdomen churning, Casivir took a step back.

“Oscar, what is this?” Solaire demanded, placing himself between them.

“So this is where you stand? We have been brethren for years, and yet, you pick the side of this... this epiphany of Dark,” he replied, voice low but intimidating altogether. “What madness has claimed you, Solaire? Your entire life was dedicated to the Lord of Sunlight, yet now... you stand beside the Dark Lord, betraying your vows as if they never mattered to you.”

“This is madness, Oscar! Unhand your blade at once!”

“No. No, I won’t. Stand aside. I would hate to harm you,” he replied, before glaring at Casivir “...but you... I shall destroy you, as fate has commanded me... Foolish pawn of Darkstalker Kaathe... And fiendish Dark Lord... I have waited for thee.”

Oscar lunged for him, but Solaire took Casivir’s place, blocking the attack with his blade so the hilts locked.

“Oscar, stop this immediately! You have gone mad!”

“Stand aside, Solaire. My business is with _him,”_ he spat, pushing his weapon forward to stagger and force him a step back, leaving Casivir mostly open as he retreated couple feet as well.

Casivir drew his own blade. “Oscar, please. I wish no harm upon thee. Allow me to speak my decision -”

“I’ve no interest in your lies, fiend!”

He lunged for him again, Casivir quick to grasp his own shield, preventing the blow. Oscar took a step back. His blade was pointed in a parry stance, movements steady and alert, his other fist clenched around his Crest shield.

Oscar froze, knowing someone was behind him, but his attention was yet directed forward.

Over his attacker’s shoulder, Casivir glimpsed Solaire, blade at the ready.

“I see you have made your choice,” Oscar muttered, his tone unrevealing to what rushed through his thoughts.

Before he had the chance to react, Oscar turned swiftly, knocking the sword behind him out of position with his shield before going in for a sweep. Solaire groaned softly, grasping his chest, a deep line having dug into his armor. Blood prickled between his fingers as he clutched at it. Oscar was left open and Casivir went in for an attack, his Zweihander hitting Oscar’s shield, the sword ruined at the blow. He hadn’t had the time to repair it since the battle with Gwyn. Nevertheless, the weight of his greatsword was yet heavy, staggering Oscar nonetheless.

As Oscar composed himself, Casivir reached for his spare Balder Side Sword, but Solaire had already managed to bring Oscar to his knees. The tip of his straight sword was lined directly underneath his chin.

Solaire was still grasping his wound. “Enough, Oscar,” he muttered, voice strained by pain. “All he asks is your ear for but a moment.”

In the following silence, Oscar’s gaze was piercing through his helmet.

“Then speak. It appears I have no choice.”

Casivir clutched the hilt, just in case. “I do not wish you harmed, Oscar,” he replied. “You told me you encountered Frampt, yes? That he had spoken of me. It is true, I believed him at first, that our mission was to relight the Flame... but the more I have encountered, the more I have learned, I knew something was not right. The serpents are masters of manipulation. Believe me, Oscar; I do not trust Darkstalker Kaathe any more than you do. I trust Kingseeker Frampt no more.”

Behind the helmet, he couldn’t tell what Oscar was thinking.

“We men are creatures of Dark, my friend,” Solaire piped in, sorrow in his voice. “There is a Cycle and history has been unchanged. Another Chosen Undead will always show him or herself and the Cycle will repeat itself. Our mission is to keep the balance between Light and Dark. To guide the next Undead into retaining the balance. The Lords are dying and they are desperate.”

“The Lords are yet in power, Solaire, how can you not see that?” Oscar spat, fists clenched. “Anor Londo is proof itself. I was there. Gwynevere, Dark Sun Gwyndolin... they are still there!”

“You are wrong, Oscar,” Solaire replied, sword yet drawn. “Princess Gwynevere and Anor Londo were illusions.”

“Illusions? What is this trickery? I shall not fall for this,” he spat, but the seriousness in their eyes had him hesitate. “You truly believe this, do you not? It... it is impossible. No. No, I shall not fall for this insanity! What proof do you have?”

Casivir sheathed his blade. “Join me to the City of the Gods and I will show you.”

“Forgive me, Oscar... but I cannot trust you alone with him,” Solaire said, voice mirroring his regret.

“You must remain here,” Casivir said. “All worlds appears to be connected in the Klin of the First Flame. You must protect the bonfire and talk to or destroy whoever attempts to Link it. There is no other way.”

Silence followed.

Solaire eventually gave in. “Then I hope you return before the new Age begins. I pray for your safety... both of you.”

Giving him a singular nod, Casivir turned to Oscar, extending his hand. A moment passed by. Just as he was about to take it back, Oscar reluctantly grasped his wrist, allowing himself to be pulled onto his feet.

On the other side of the gate, they froze in unison, taking in the scene before them.

Serpents formed a corridor as they stared.

“Casivir...?” Oscar muttered reluctantly.

“My Lord, bless thy safe return,” one of the serpents said, heads bowing to form a path between them. “Let Kaathe, and Frampt, serve Your Highness. We are here to serve Your Highness. Let true Dark be cast upon the world. Our Lord hath returned’st.”

Casivir turned to the fog gate that he found left impenetrable.

His face fell.

It was too late, as of now, he couldn’t reach Solaire.

He could only pray he wouldn’t give in to his wish and light the Fire.

**END (of part 1)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Part of the ending here is actually canon -- as confirmed by Miyazaki -- because he said that Solaire would relight the flame in his own world if the Chosen Undead didn't.
> 
>  _Dark Souls_ is made up by timelines and _Dark Souls 2_ is a different timeline based on the Chosen Undead choosing 'Link the Fire.' Like stated previously, Gwyn tried to extend the Light, disrupting the balance between Light and Dark. The Undead Curse was created because of it. I believe that the core message behind this game is that the world needs balance; it's explicitly stated in the opening cutscene how important balance is; Heat and Cold, Life and Death, Light and Dark.
> 
> Another thing worthy of notice is that Solaire isn't in his phantom form during the last battle with Gwyn. He's not see-through. I'm certain their worlds collided again at that point.
> 
> Also... in the cut content, the Chosen Undead actually has to kill Oscar after he attacks him/her. I made my own twist to it (because I love Oscar too much.) Whatever choice you make, he'll choose the opposite, in denial that you are the Chosen Undead and not him. He's too desperate to have a purpose that he'll neglect everything else. Personally, I wished they kept this in, even if he died a hero in the Undead Asylum in the final release.
> 
> Anyway, onwards to part 2!


End file.
